


Warriors do not Cry

by Chelsea_Horror



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst?, Canon Backstory, Murderous Undertones, Other, Pre-Movie, omg sah tragic, one sided sibling rivalry, religous overtones, young quicksilver, young scarlett witch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelsea_Horror/pseuds/Chelsea_Horror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro almost never said he was scared, that's why she nearly fell off her bed when he whispered through the cement wall between them, just loud enough that she could hear him, "Wanda? Are you awake? I-I'm scared"</p><p>Otherwise known as The three times Pietro ever said he was scared" OR "Wanda Maximoff has issues"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warriors do not Cry

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 2000 word look into the twins back story. I hope that the characters are as accurate to the actors portrayal as possible but I am an amatuer soooo....  
> Please enjoy!

 

Pietro almost never said he was scared, not even when they were choking on dust and ashes for three days under his bed, scared to breathe too deeply because the bomb next to their heads could go off at any moment. Not even when his pulse beat against her palm like the panicked beating of a trapped bird's wings when a Hydra missionary told them about their "program" that would make them "More powerful than anyone they knew" Pietro didn't even flinch when they started the tests.

She was never as strong.

She held back sobs between breaths that tasted like plaster dust. She hid her face in Pietro's shoulder when he asked the Hydra missionary if they would be strong enough to kill Tony Stark. And though she tried her best to be strong like him, strong like her mother, she couldn't hold back her tears when they strapped her down and worked on her as if she were just another piece of weaponry in their lab. She knew she was the weak one-that Pietro would always be her protector, the strong twin. That was just the way things _were_. That's why she nearly fell off her bed when he whispered through the cement wall between them, just loud enough that she could hear him, "Wanda? Are you awake? I-I'm scared"

She slipped off of the worn bed and onto the cold concrete as quietly as possible. The last time they woke the guards, they went without food for three days. Her bare knees were aching with the pain only intense cold could bring but she shuffled over to the wall silently. She could hear Pietro on the other side, sniffling and trying to hide it. "I'm awake" she whispered, her lips almost touching the wall. She heard him shuffle closer.

"Wanda, I hurt. I _really freaking hurt_ " He whispered back, and she'd never heard him sound so vulnerable, as if he were scared that saying out it loud would make it worse. "Me too Pietro" she answered, which was nothing but the terrible truth. Her veins ached and pulsed as if her blood had stared to dance to it's own painful rhythm, and the thoughts in her head didn't entirely feel like her own. Her body felt alien to her, as though she had slipped out of her own familiar skin and stepped into someone else s, someone else who had veins that pulsed with fire and a brain filled with memories of places and people she'd never seen.

"My hands...They won't stop _vibrating._ I can't stop them. It hurts" He choked out, "And my heart,It's moving t-too _fast_  "He must have rested his head on the wall because it _thunked._ He was quiet for a long moment, where she suddenly, randomly thought of her own face, as if through some one elses eyes. She was helping their mother clean the lounge room, laughing and smiling. The image made her heart hurt.

"Why do they do this to us. Why do they hate us. Do we deserve this Wanda?" Pietro mumbled. She thanked God that there was a wall in between them so that he couldn't see her face. "We don't deserve this" she said to him, which was nothing but an ugly lie.

Didn't the Pastor always warn her about revenge? Didn't he tell her that even _if_  Petra had pushed her over in the schoolyard she shouldn't pull her hair in retaliation? He told her to treat others how she would be treated, and she will be accepted into God's arms. She guessed all those lessons flew right over Pietro's head. He had never even considered forgiving Stark and his bombs. He had only the thought of Revenge.

"I'm sorry I made you do this" He said.

She could imagine his face as he said that. When he apologized he really meant it. Their parents would have it no other way. His eyes would widen, filled with infinite depth, even as a young boy. His lips would straighten into a tight line, every single line in his face projecting his earnestness. She knew he would look like this, in the way siblings knew each other. He was always so easy to read, as if his every emotion were written in the creases. By apologizing he showed her how weak she was yet again. He could admit his mistakes. He had the strength to say sorry. She did not. She did not admit that she knew she could have convinced him to turn Hydra's offer down-she chose not to, telling herself _"If I didn't openly agree to kill another then God will not find me guilty of Sin"_ like she could remain innocent through technicality's. Leaning against that wall, with her knees scratching against the floor and her eyes brimming with tears, she vowed she would be more like her brother in any way. She would be strong. She would be brave. She would make her parents proud. And if seeking revenge for their parents with Pietro would send her to Hell, than so be it. Hell couldn't be much worse than here anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The second time he ever said he was scared, they were 15 and he didn't even say it out loud. It was in the middle of Autumn, which was a lot like the middle of winter, and they were at their "Training center" which was really just an abandoned school running track, the rest of the campus long since demolished. They were watched by their usual three guards, who Pietro had nicknamed "Sunglasses", "Muffin"and "Jackal"" named for their pretentious fashion choices, overhanging stomach and disturbingly filed down teeth, respectively. They pretended that they weren't there to kill Pietro and Wanda if they tried to escape. In turn, Wanda and Pietro pretended that they weren't aching to unleash their new found powers on the lot of them. After all, they _were_ technically on the same side.

Pietro was warming up in one of the running lanes, in track pants that were too short for his long teenage boy legs. Somehow, despite Hydras seemingly endless store of high tech weapons, they never had clothes that fi. Not that Hydra had time to look into their human-rights issues. Too many civilizations to conquer, governments to infiltrate, etc.

Smith, their babysitter agent who only went by Smith, or _Agent Smith to you, girl_ , stood on the sidelines with a radar gun in his hands, the kind police used to track drivers speed. "Are you ready, boy?" Smith asked, voice like iron. Pietro shot her the " _get a load of this guy_ " look before snapping Smith a sharp salute. "Sir, yes Sir!" Smith switched on the radar. "Then why aren't you running?"

Pietro shot off around the track, legs and arms moving so fast that the air around him seemed to blur, as if it couldn't keep up with him. He sprinted past Smith, causing his leather duster to snap in his wake. Smith consulted the radar "86 mph. Again" Pietro went around again, this time even faster. He passed Smith. "93 mph. Again"

Wanda watched him basically skip around the track and realized that she was jealous of her twin. How easy he made it look, whipping around the track so fast that he almost left after images behind _without even breaking a sweat_. And all she could do was pick things up without using her hands and read people's thoughts like a snooping old lady. But of course Pietro would get the stronger, more useful power. He was always a runner, outrunning her in their childhood games, unintentionally outdoing her in all things. She didn't get to inherit their father's easy arrogance, their mother's tall frame. She was short, quiet and entirely forgettable. And she couldn't even hate him for it. It's not like it was _his_ fault that he'd hit the genetic jackpot. He'd never treated her any less for it. Even so, She couldn't help but hold a tiny seed of jealousy in her heart.

"75 mph. Again! You better pick up the pace boy or you won't be eating for a week!" Smith shouted, his words like a whip. Pietro pushed himself forward with an extra burst of speed but quickly slowed down again. She could hear his laboured breathing from where she was sitting against the battered chain link fence. He was clearly spent. She shot up, causing Muffin and Jackal to grab her arms in their identical, gloved grips. "Stop! _You'll kill him!_ " She shrieked at Smith.

"If he dies than he wasn't strong enough to be useful"Smith retorted dismissively. She struggled against the men pushing her back down to the ground as Pietro passed Smith again, legs practically moving at a normal pace. Smith roared in anger and started towards where Pietro stood, hands on his knees and chest heaving like he couldn't suck the air in fast enough. Smith made it halfway before Pietro toppled to the ground. Wanda screamed and tore from the guards with strength she didn't know she had, and raced towards her brother. She dropped to the wet ground beside him and flipped him over. His eyes were open, and wider than she'd ever seen them. _"Wanda"_ He wheezed between each frantic gulp of air. She could see his pulse in his thin neck, pounding like it wanted to escape. Thoughtlessly, She grabbed his hand.

When she touched his skin, his thoughts pushed themselves into her head, demanding to be heard. "I _'mscaredi'mscaredmyheartithurtsWandaWandahelp_ " The thoughts ran together, blurred and panicky, like the lines of a watercolour painting. She couldn't handle it, she ripped her hand away from his. Anything to get rid of that pain. It felt like it was _her_ heart that was squeezing so tight that it might burst, like it was _her_ breath that was whistling out quicker than she could breathe in. Smith was beside them, a radio in his hand. He was shouting for medics to get there _right now_ _dammit_ , but she could barely hear him. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she fell to the ground beside her brother, her last conscious thought " _This is our punishment. God has struck us down for my sins_ "

Wanda Maximoff passed out more sorry than her brother had ever been. And Pietro watched her fall into oblivion with all her regret etched onto her face, more fearful of God than he had ever been.

 

* * *

 

The third and last time Pietro ever said he was scared was right before they went out to fight the Avengers for the first time. They stood in the corner, hearing the screaming of the Hydra agents all around, and the terrible sound of gunfire. Wanda tried to block the dying men out of her mind but they still pushed against her barriers, as if they wanted her to hear their last words so that she might pass them on. Pietro held onto her wrists with his strong hands, offering her his strength and the safe house of his mind if she wanted it. She didn't take his offer. She wanted to feel the men die, let them fuel her hate for the Avengers, that sick bunch of would-be heroes who _chose_ to be around Stark. She wanted to tear them apart too, even though they hadn't killed her parents. They were guilty by association. _This is the effect the Avengers have;Fear and death._

Strucker, Smith and the lead scientist were planning to beg for mercy from the killers. She could hear it from their minds. They were scared, so scared that they were willing to give up. It made Wanda's blood boil. Glowing red fire started to swirl around her and Pietro's clasped hands. He tightened his grip and shot her a worried look, but didn't say anything. She didn't offer an explanation.

She did not go through 12 years of pain and training, years that should of been filled with parties and laughter, only to be robbed of her chance at revenge. She looked up at her brother, expecting to find similar emotions on his face but there wasn't. His normally expressive face was blank. She pressed her fingers into his wrist, pushing her words into his mind, _"Don't you hear them? They are going to beg for mercy"_

He twitched in surprise then looked down, hiding his face behind his dyed-white hair. He pushed his thoughts back at her, as much as he could, _"I'm scared Wanda"_

Wanda stared. Pietro did not get scared. Pietro was strong. She was the weak one.

 _"I'm scared that you'll kill more of them than I will"_ Pietro continued after awhile, his face slipping back into his usual arrogant smile. She smiled back cruelly, because it was expected. But she knew he was lying, as surely as she knew that there were men dying as they spoke. His thoughts flowed into her mind, familiar to her as her cold, concrete bedroom.

He was scared of God's wrath. He was scared that she would lose all of her morality, her quiet compassion, all of the things he had secretly looked to her for. He was scared because _she wasn't_. He had thought, _wished_ that she would tell him to take them away from his toxic dream. But she wanted it. She'd been sucked into it. He had destroyed her heart.

She ignored all this, pretended like she didn't secretly agree with him. They couldn't go back. Too much had been done to them. She asked him silently to pick her up, to carry her out there to face those monsters. She'd made a vow to be strong, to avenge their parents. Wanda Maximoff did not cower from spilling blood. Wanda Maximoff was strong, like her brother.

"Let's go Pietro" She said and tightened her hold on him. Strucker and Smith noticed them, and rested their hands on their guns suspiciously. Pietro set off with her in his arms, holding her tight so the speed wouldn't kill her. The room, their prison, turned into silver blur around them, her eyes too slow to focus. She could feel his heartbeat through her ear, pounding like a drum. The long dull walls slid by, all those years they'd spent in them left behind in mere seconds. The freezing forest air hit her in the face like a concrete wall and if Pietro asked she would tell him that's why tears were sliding down her face, not because she was scared.

She was strong, and the Strong do not cry.


End file.
